Playing With Myself

On FIFA. Obviously.

I would just like to state right now that the picture above represents the only time that I would be in any danger of losing on FIFA to anyone. I can confirm I once lost to a girl, but believe me the hours afterwards more than made up for it. I'm pretty sure Kirky can't offer me the same benefits as that fair (actually she was foul, decietful and childish but hey ho) maiden did. Therefore he gets his little southern as kicked. Always. I've discovered that people from the south (anywhere below Peterborough) can't really grasp FIFA. Not like I can.

I know this looks suspiciously like a grown man sat around early in the morning in hs pyjamas playing computer games and mouthing off about it, but it isn't. There are subtle things here that tell you that infact you are looking at an extremely cutting edge individual with taste and style. Here they are.

1: Lincoln City shirt. Any cosmopolitan 'man about town' should have this fashionable item to slip into at the beginning of a day. Just don't wear it out socially, girls think you're a twat.

2: The empty SINGLE beer bottle on the side. I'm not a lonely binge drinker, but enjoy the taste of a nice ale. Or rather I did, last night. The fact this was taken this morning suggests that maybe I don't clean up enough. Shit.

3: The festival glasses. The 'me' on the right is sporting my yellow 'Buddy Holly' glasses purchased at V97 as a way of disguising the fact my eyes were bloodshot, baggy and pretty vacant. They make me look like a geek but I thought they'd be cool in this photo.

So there you have it. The chair on the left is 'my chair'. If anyone else sits in it I feel displaced, at odds with the world. It has a comfy little groove where my ass fits, and even little elbow grooves as well. The chair on the left has the same, I swapped them over when the grooves got too much. It makes for an uncomfortable Kirky.

In other news I've decided my cat, Rascal (or Pudding) isn't all that bad. Last night she was close to taking a swim in a sack full of bricks.... whining constantly at my door. Then when I let her in she jumped straight into the screen of my 40" bad bastard TV. I flipped out, and ejected her from the room. I was pretty mad.

I got even worse when a freeloading fly decided to come in and utilise my lounge space as his own little racing circuit. Whilst I got busy on the fanzine I edit he took pleasure in dive bombing me, buzzing in and out of my ears and then disappearing when I grabbed something to swat him with. My anger levels grew.... and grew..... and grew....

I opened the window to let him out, and he went and sat on the inside of the glass, giving it the big 'I am' in my own living room. I could have spat organs I was so livid. I'm not scared of flies (obviously) they just piss me right off. I choose the animals that I want in my home, and something that is constantly trying to taint my food supplies is not welcome.

Just as he was wiggling his ass at me and shouting 'loser' (probably) Rascal launched herself from the front garden, through my open window and swiped the sultana with wings up with one paw. I eard the customary chewing before she emerged from the side of the sofa with a proper pleased look on her face.

My hero.

Be good to each other. If you can't manage that, just be good to me..